


"What More Can A Poor Boy Do?"

by a_carnal_mink



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2014verse, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-30
Updated: 2011-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_carnal_mink/pseuds/a_carnal_mink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were the last one to say it. You'll be the first one I'll be able to hear it from again. I promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"What More Can A Poor Boy Do?"

**Author's Note:**

> Website: [weltonbmarsland.com](https://weltonbmarsland.com/)

My love is alien  
I picked him up by chance  
He speaks to me  
In ultra high frequency

It's strange, Dean considers, but it's only _after_ the angels leave the terrestrial plane, only _after_ Cas is left behind to become all-too human, that Dean starts finding himself dreaming about Castiel's real voice. He wonders if it's irony or whatever, but Sammy's not around to ask about such things anymore.

He rolls out of bed around dawnish after one such dream – still fully clothed, right down to his boots – grabs his gun outta habit and walks across the compound to Cas' cabin. There's a light on inside when he gets there; either Cas is up early, up really late, or passed out last night without caring. By the time he stomps up to the top step, Cas is already calling out to him.

'Good morning, Fearless Leader!'

'Things decent in there?!'

He can hear a scoffing sound from the other side of the beaded curtain.

'Just get in here already!'

Castiel sits cross-legged in the middle of his bed, eating a bowl of dry cereal. They've all got used to eating cereal without milk on it.

Dean sets his rifle at Buddha's feet on the dresser and makes a vague nod toward Cas' breakfast. 'What is that?'

Shrugging, Cas spoons up another mouthful. 'Vaguely chocolaty,' he says in between crunches. 'Not bad. There was a plastic card in the box with an elephant on it. What's that about?'

Dean sits heavily on one corner of the bed and gives his friend a shrug in return. 'Kids' stuff, I dunno.' He leans forward a little, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees. 'Had another one of those dreams.'

He hears the clank of the spoon being dropped into the bowl and the bed dips and creaks as Cas leans sideways to the bedside table. Breakfast is over, Dean supposes.

'Did it hurt?' Castiel's voice is quiet and low.

Dean shakes his head. 'Not since the first one.'

'What, um.' Cas clears his throat and tries again. 'What did I say?'

'Same thing.' Dean stares hard at his hands.

The bed creaks again. They really oughta rustle up some oil for Cas' bedsprings. On the periphery of his vision, Dean sees Cas put his legs over the side of the bed and scoot along the mattress until he's sitting beside Dean.

'Maybe,' and Cas' voice is even quieter than before, 'maybe your brain's trying to tell you something.'

Dean stops staring at his hands and looks down at Castiel's bare feet instead. Dude always did have the most elegant feet Dean'd ever seen. 'I don't wanna hear it,' he tells Cas' feet gruffly.

'Hmph, well, YOU say that, but it sounds like your subconscious says different.'

Finally, Dean sits up a little straighter and lets himself look at Cas' face properly. He really wishes he'd stop wearing that blue shirt. It does stupid things to his eyes. Like make them even bluer than they already are. Dean glances away again.

The two of them sit in silence for a minute or so until Cas sighs and taps his fingers against his knees briefly. 'Just out of curiosity,' he starts, and Dean takes in a long, slow breath in readiness of whatever's about to be laid on him, 'what does your subconscious think I sound like? Or, the old me, at any rate?'

Beautiful, Dean wants to say. Perfectly, painfully beautiful. Pure and unsullied and terrifying.

'A bit girly,' he says instead.

Cas chuckles and bumps his shoulder against Dean's. 'You jerk.' A beat, and then – 'Sorry. Bad word choice.'

Dean lets the faux pas slide. He always feels a little magnanimous after these dreams.

They sit for several more minutes without saying anything, faint murmurs of the awakening camp drifting into the cabin. Dean'll have to rally some troops soon, get a scavenging party organised for a food run. Castiel no doubt has a full day of spiritual seminars booked, seeing as three more comely females have joined the camp in the last few days.

'Look, even if you don't want to hear it from me – '

'No,' Dean interrupts. He turns his head slightly and gives Cas a long sideways look. 'You were the last one to say it. You'll be the first one I'll be able to hear it from again. I promise. Just. Y'know. I can't right now. I just can't, Cas.'

He's stupidly grateful that Castiel ignores the crack in Dean's voice at the end there. They're staring into each other's eyes, just like old times, and for a moment Dean thinks Cas is about to say something, but then his lips purse tightly and he stands up.

'I need a smoke.'

Dean closes his eyes and swallows before opening them again. That's his cue to leave now. He stands, too, crossing to the dresser to retrieve his rifle. He watches Cas for a moment, fussing with a bowl and scissors and pulling papers from a slim packet, and suddenly he needs to hear it so bad, needs to tell Cas that, yes, he's right, as always, and Dean's brain is right, too, for once, and he really really does need to hear Cas tell him what the pure-voiced Cas in his dreams keeps stopping by to tell him. Steadfast, Dean slings his gun onto his shoulder and walks over to the cabin door.

'Dean.'

Dean pauses with a handful of bead curtain and looks back. Castiel gives him a penetrating look while licking slowly along the last paper on his spliff.

'Make sure you come back in one piece.'

Dean breaths out and nods.

'Because I wanna hear more about your dreams!' Cas calls after him.

Dean trudges down the cabin steps.

'Wanna hear you admit it's all about the "I love yous"!'

Dean pretends he's already too far away to hear that last. What more can he do?

**Author's Note:**

> Written January 2010. Title and lyric from "Poor Boy" by Split Enz.


End file.
